The Prisoner of Fate
by thats-a-moray
Summary: Ever wonder what Raziel did during the 500 years between Soul Reaver 2 and Defiance? Yeah, me neither. Here's this story.
1. Escape

**AN:** AKA "Raziel's Kick-ass Playlist," this story is my shameless excuse to combine two obscure things that I love: Legacy of Kain and the music and lyrics of The Mountain Goats. All of the songs referenced in this story are available on YouTube. In order, they are Lovecraft in Brooklyn, Sax Rohmer #1, Pigs That Ran Straightaway into the Water, Heretic Pride, and The Last Man on Earth. There will be five chapters. When complete, this story should come in at around 10,000 words.

This story takes place between the end of Soul Reaver 2 and the beginning of Defiance. It takes place in the same head-canon as the rest of my fics and makes some references to Wasteland Kingdom.

* * *

_Woke up afraid of my own shadow  
Like, genuinely afraid  
Headed for the pawnshop  
To buy myself a switchblade_

_Someday something's coming_  
_From way out beyond the stars_  
_To kill us while we stand here_  
_It'll store our brains in mason jars_

_And then the girl behind the counter_  
_She asks me how I feel today_  
_I feel like Lovecraft in Brooklyn_

- The Mountain Goats,_ Lovecraft in Brooklyn_

* * *

_500 years before the Pillars' corruption_  
_The Sarafan Stronghold, Spectral Realm_

In the Spectral Realm, Raziel knelt on the floor of the room that would soon become a memorial to the martyred Sarafan Inquisitors. He had killed them all in the hope of avenging Janos's death. But in the end, it was all for nothing. Raziel's entire existence became a gigantic joke.

_"So here we are..."_ he said to the shining, green band of spectral energy that coiled about his forearm. This weapon had many names: the wraith blade; the soul devouring spirit of Soul Reaver, Kain's legendary blade. Raziel's own soul.

The wraith blade did not reply, but the it did have a mind of sorts. He knew it well: driven mad by aeons of confinement and the inescapable torment of a cyclical destiny that played out in an infinite loop, ceaselessly returning his tortured spirit to the this personal hell.

_"Can you appreciate the irony of this moment, old friend? How many times have we come to rest inside this room? Where did our twisted destiny begin? Does it ever end?"_

Now he understood the source of his indescribable fear and temptation whenever he found himself near the Blood Reaver. The wraith blade recognized the sword and longed to return to its resiting place inside the blade, yet it also remembered the horror of the moment which still burned fresh in Raziel's mind like an open wound, the when the Reaver turned on him and the loathsome reality of his destiny bloomed before his eyes like an open wound. In order to fuse with the Blood Reaver and thereby create the Soul Reaver, the wraith blade turned on its former host, simultaneously devouring Raziel's soul and fusing it with the sword.

The words of Raziel's ancient Benefactor leapt to the forefront of his mind: _SOUL REAVER AND REAVER OF SOULS; YOUR DESTINIES ARE INTERTWINED._

He slammed his fist against the uncompromising ground in a fit of rage. No more of this. Whatever Kain had in mind for him when he saved him from the Reaver, Raziel would make damned certain his plans came to nothing. And if Raziel truly was some kind of twisted Vampire Messiah, as Janos Audron believed, then he would forsake Nosgoth to Armageddon. He did not want to save this damned place. It did not deserve saving.

No, Nosgoth deserved worse than the abandonment of its so-called Savior. He wanted to see it die. He wanted all of it to die. And if he truly possessed freewill he would see to it that Nosgoth died slowly and in pain as punishment for fate's cruel machinations.

Already, his plan was forming. If he could not reach the Chronoplast chambers within the Sarafan Stronghold, he would head north for the Oracle's Cave and use the Chronoplast there to return to Nosgoth's present time and ride out the death throes of Kain's empire. Assuming he could reach it without being snatched out of the time stream by Moebius, he should be able to hide out in Nosgoth's present until the end of the world, or perhaps find a way to hasten it. If it was his fate to be damned, let them all be damned with him.

Raziel struggled to his feet. His legs wobbled faintly as he trudged forward and paused to support himself against one of the many warped pillars that held up the second floor of the tower while he gathered his strength. His spiritual form wobbled and pulsated, barely holding together. The Reaver had nearly destroyed him. He needed to feed.

He passed through an iron gate like a ghost and dragged his feet down the long hallway to the chapel, the claws on his cloven feet scratching softly on the ground, the tips of his ruined wigs brushing against the stone floor. Walking with one hand against the wall, he pulled his cowl down around his neck, bearing his ghoulish face to the Underworld. As he inhaled a white light appeared from the hole where his throat and lower jaw had once been with a wheezing sound. He listened for the mournful cries of lost souls.

The Spectral Realm is a savage place, Raziel learned long ago. There was more nobility in the life of a vampire than the cursed unlife of a wraith. A white human soul floated down from the vaulted ceiling. Perhaps it was one of the Sarafan warriors he killed on his futile quest to retrieve the Heart of Darkness. Drawn toward him by a supernatural pull, the soul approached its doom. When it neared him its essence spooled and descended into the hole at the base of his throat.

Raziel gasped, quivering as the spiritual energy spread throughout his body. This was nothing like feeding off of blood. The human's soul fused with his essence and revitalized him immediately. It tasted like shivers going down your spine.

Finished, he pulled his cowl over his face and continued down the hallway with renewed vigor. No doubt he would find more prey throughout the battle-torn Stronghold.

...

This time fate seemed to be on his side. Before long he discovered one of his Benefactor's conduits into the Material Realm. Standing on the oscillating blue portal, he concentrated and felt a tingle as the conduit drew in matter to form his physical body.

The chatter of steel echoed through the halls as the Sarafan warriors raced through the Stronghold in panic. No doubt Kain was cutting them down with delight. Meanwhile, somewhere else in the Stronghold, the vampire Vorador murdered six members of the Circle of Nine. Only Malek, Mortanius, and that snake, Moebius the Time Guardian would survive Vorador's wrath. Nosgoth's wretched history unfolded around him, a seemingly endless cycle of murders and revenge. Why would anyone want to save this damned place? Wasting no time Raziel sprinted down the hall, wings flapping behind him.

By now he had given up on using the Chronoplasts in the Stronghold. The earlier bloodbath would have surely left the entire Stronghold in a state of chaos which Raziel would be hard pressed to fight his way through. Once he found his way back into the Material Realm, he would head straight for the Great Southern Lake and escape into the wilds of Nosgoth. If he could not reach the northern Chronoplast, he would find another way to end the world that had so gravely betrayed him.

Shortly he reached the balcony overlooking the lake. Beyond the frozen lake the lush wilderness of Nosgoth spread out, sparkling beneath a thick sheet of snow. Raziel leapt from the ledge and glided onto the ice using the flaps of skin left over from his destroyed wings. As he landed he skidded for a couple of feet before coming to a stop.

Something gurgled beneath the ice. Startled, Raziel froze. A shadow rushed upwards from the blue. Just in time, Raziel crouched and leapt into the air as a massive serpent exploded from the roaring ice. Broken apart by the explosion, the newly created drift ice bounced and bobbed on the waves. Clinging to an iceberg in alarm, Raziel stared at the thrashing tentacle with slowly dawning horror.

He had seen tentacles like this one many times before in both the Spectral and Material Realms, at the bottom of the Lake of the Dead and within the flooded secret chamber beneath the Pillars; the slithering limbs of his Benefactor.

Raziel's claws scratched against the ice as he scrambled to his feet and jumped. He landed on another block of ice and almost fell. If he could reach the other side he might be able to escape. The ice shifted beneath his feet as he raced toward his salvation, offering grim glimpses of his Benefactor coasting through the frigid water like a school of giant eels.

Up until now his Benefactor was merely a force in the shadows, the great puppeteer of Nosgoth's history. He never knew that It could have such a powerful effect on the Material Realm. There were clues in the secret chamber during the age of the Pillars' collapse. During his journey through that time period, Raziel had seen his Benefactor's tentacles ominously clinging to the roots of the broken Pillars, as if It had intentionally toppled them, but It only scolded him for disobedience. It took no direct action against him, so he assumed he was beyond Its reach. Why had It not tried to stop him from altering history before?

The answer hit him like an earthquake. It only allowed him to continue his agenda because It needed him. He had led the Sarafan to Janos Audron. He had used the Blood Reaver to kill his former Sarafan brothers, setting the stage for Kain to resurrect them a thousand years in the future. Without even realizing it he had played directly into his Benefactor's hands!

As he landed from a jump the slab of ice beneath his feet started to rise. Fighting for balance, he tried to leap to a nearby sheet of drift ice but the steeping angle caused his legs to slip. In an instant the slab came crashing down on top of him. When his vision cleared he found himself submerged.

Raziel swam for the surface. He was a strong swimmer thanks to the benefits of Rahab's soul. He had almost reached the ice when something clamped down on his ankle and pulled him down. He spun around, startled by what he saw. A thick, green tentacle had wrapped itself around his right leg. He summoned the wraith blade and slashed at the arm - but the blue sword passed through it like light. His white eyes blazed in horror.

_"No! NO!"_ He slashed again and again in wild desperation. The wraith blade screamed through the water, wailing its impotence. This had never happened before. No other spectral creature could survive the wraith blade unscathed. How could his Benefactor be immune? He tried his claws, but his Benefactor's skin was too thick and slimy to penetrate.

Giving up the attack, Raziel kicked and clawed at the water to no avail. The surface of the Great Southern Lake ascended beyond his reach at a frightening pace as his Benefactor dragged him toward a dark cave.

Nearing the edge of the abyss, Raziel dug his claws into the bottom of the lake. The tentacle was all muscle and dragged him toward the abyss with fatal resolve. Sediment blackened the water and mud filled every crevice of his cadaverous body as he fought for purchase from the loose soil. In a matter of seconds his claws slipped over the ledge and he was falling.

Darkness closed in around him as the tentacle dragged him thrashing down into dank darkness. Grabbing hold of a rock with both hands, he struggled to pull himself free. He cried out in agony as his joints strained against the pull of his Benefactor. Feeling his grip slipping, he reached four a sturdier hold. Suddenly the stone cracked. The wall collapsed, falling on top of him as the tentacle pulled him down. He heard the rocks catch on the walls, blocking his view of the surface and trapping him in total darkness.

The tunnel was growing thinner. Jagged walls of stone scrapped against his ribs and elbows, tearing at him mercilessly. He clasped the wall until his claws found firm holds and braced himself, letting out another cry as his muscles tore from the strain. Still he refused to budge. _"Argh! Damn you, overgrown squid! You'll have to tear apart me piece by piece!"_

Finally, the pressure on his ankle loosened. Raziel trembled faintly. His whole body ached, but he still possessed enough strength to maintain his bleeding physical form.

His hair floated in the water as he strained to discern his surroundings. Darkness above, darkness below. With rocks blocking the tunnel above he could only guess at his depth. He might as well be at the center of the earth. His shoulders sank as the reality of his situation slowly weighed down upon him. No... not like this.

Out of the darkness, the tentacle shot between his legs and coiled around his body in a flash, savagely wrenching him from the wall before he knew what was happening. He struggled, clawing uselessly at his bindings. When the tentacle seized with a sickening _CRUNCH _his eye sockets filled with green ectoplasm and his shattered physical form went limp. The water turned to air and his black hair fell over his downcast face as his spirit slipped Spectral Realm, still in the clutches of his malevolent Benefactor. Raziel closed his eyes and gave up.

His Benefactor deposited him lovingly at the bottom of the ravine. Rising to his hands and knees, Raziel scanned the cavern in which he found himself. From this vantage point he could not see the cavern's roof or the tunnel from which he had descended. The walls of the cavern ascended into foggy green shadows lit here and there by the gleam of his Benefactor's innumerable eyes.

Lowing his gaze, he found himself kneeling on some sort of ancient obelisk, toppled by time. Wound about by monstrous tentacles, a singular blue eye studied him pitilessly. The tangled mass of his Benefactor choked the cavern, a sentient strangleweed large enough to devour a city. He staggered to his feet, still aching with phantom pains, and glared at his reflection, his entire body captured in his Benefactor's eye like an insect in a jar. _"Where have you taken me, Parasite?"_

Its hourglass pupil blinked at him with something like satisfaction. DID I NOT WARN YOU WHAT WOULD COME OF YOUR PETTY REBELLION? I DELIVERED YOU THE SOULS OF YOUR TREACHEROUS BROTHERS AND LED YOU TO YOUR FORMER MASTER, KAIN. IT WAS YOUR RESOLVE THAT FALTERED. YOU HAVE BROKEN OUR CONTRACT AND MUST PAY THE PRICE FOR DISOBEDIENCE.

_"Drop your benevolent facade! You've been using me for your own agenda from the beginning. I will not be held captive."_

I AM THE HUB OF THE WHEEL; THE ENGINE OF LIFE. DO YOU THINK THE WORLD TURNS FOR YOU? WE HAD AN AGREEMENT.

_"In what part of our 'agreement' did I consent to be trapped inside a sword?"_ Raziel asked sarcastically.

AS MY UNIQUE SERVANT, YOUR SOUL CANNOT BE RETURNED TO THE WHEEL. HAD YOU KILLED KAIN WHEN YOU HELD HIM AT YOUR MERCY, YOUR PURPOSE WOULD HAVE BEEN FULFILLED. THE SOUL REAVER WAS TO BE YOUR REWARD FOR SERVICES RENDERED: YOUR BLESSED RELEASE INTO OBLIVION, THE DISSOLUTION OF THE BODY YOU DESPISE. THAT IS ALL YOU EVER WANTED.

_"No!"_ Raziel hissed. He despised suicide above all else. He may have bemoaned his new form when he awoke in the abyss but his lamentations were merely the mourning period for his old body. This Parasite was twisting his words. _"I have visited the ruins of the Ancient vampires and spoken to Janos Audron. There is more to my destiny than the crude trap engineered by you and your lackey Moebius. Tell me what I really am, if you even know."_

YOU ARE _MINE._

_"Liar!"_

Cold laughter rumbled within the cavern. It seemed to resonate from every direction at once. YOUR PERSISTENCE AGAINST ME IS MERE VANITY, RAZIEL. THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

He retreated a small step, fists clenched. It was true; he could see no means of reaching the surface from this cavern. There might be another exit elsewhere. All he needed to do was find it and exploit it. His Benefactor continued: WE SHALL SEE WHAT YOU PREFER. WHILE YOU ARE IMPRISONED HERE, YOU WILL CONTINUE TO SERVE MY NEEDS. It paused, clearing a passage for him with Its tentacles. GO. YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.

On the day of his awakening as a wraith, his Benefactor had promised him revenge and retribution and he swallowed Its sweet words like fishing hooks. As Its 'Angel of Death' he was commanded to hunt the lost souls of the Underworld in order to feed himself and his Benefactor, while also thinning the numbers of sluagh and other soul scavengers: a glorified, undead oxpecker. Raziel hesitated, wary of further abuse now that his Benefactor had demonstrated Its willingness to discipline him with force.

On the other hand, this punishment was no worse than the reprimands he endured under Kain's dubious parenting. Raziel descended from the fallen obelisk and inched away from his Benefactor's eye hatefully. _"You should stay on your guard,"_ he warned It, taunting.


	2. Kill Kain

**AN:** Possible trigger warning for this chapter.

* * *

_Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills_  
_Chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills_  
_And a rabbit gives up somewhere  
and a dozen hawks descend_  
_Every moment leads toward its own sad end_  
_Yeah-ah-ah!_

_Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they're gone_  
_Sailors with no captains watch awhile and then move on_  
_And an agent crests the shadows  
and I head in her direction_  
_All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection_

- The Mountain Goats, _Sax Rohmer #1_

* * *

Kain's training had taught him how to keep loose track of time in prison. Rather, Raziel taught himself. Kain merely provided the motivation and opportunity. By Raziel's estimation he had been trapped in the Spectral Realm for a week or so; however, without even the changing temperature of night and day to go by, he was beginning to have his doubts about the passage of time. What if it had only been a few days?

These caverns were quite different from other caves in Nosgoth. Wherever he ventured, his Benefactor was watching. Its tentacles hugged the walls, often seemingly with no end and no beginning, and It watched him from on high with thousands of glistening blue eyes. He did his best to ignore Its gaze.

Much of this cave system appeared to be under water. If he could reach the surface he might be able to find an exit, but the water level rose well beyond his reach. In the Spectral Realm water was no more substantial than air. Swimming to the surface in this realm was impossible. Many of the tunnels he passed through bore scratch marks on the walls, as if they had been dug out by his Benefactor, which both inhabited these tunnels and seemed to spring from the rock itself.

A few days ago he had stumbled across a crumbling temple at the bottom of an enormous chamber. The temple was built into the wall of the cavern, choked by tentacles, its doorway like an open throat. At first he assumed it must be of vampire origin, like the other ruins he encountered on the Surface of Nosgoth, but upon closer inspection, the temple bore no resemblance to the architecture of the Ancients.

If the walls held any testament to the builders' identity their faces had long since been scraped from history. Only the foremost portion of the temple was accessible. The halls leading deeper into the complex had long since collapsed, perhaps not by accident. A shrine stood in the center of the chamber: a wheel with eight spokes constructed from some type of metal, which Raziel struggled to identify in the false color of the Spectral Realm. The spokes curved to the right or left, resembling the currents of a whirlpool, and in the center of the wheel, exactly where he expected it, he saw an eye in the uncanny likeness of his Benefactor, complete with hourglass pupil. On closer inspection, he discovered that the spokes were textured with toothy suckers. This could not be a coincidence.

The wheel was mounted on a stone slab with some kind of writing on it. Raziel knelt to examine the script. Although the letters appeared to be legible, they were in a language he had never seen before. Mentally, he compared them to the markings he had seen at the Pillars, which he knew to be of Ancient vampiric origin, but they bore no resemblance to these either. Could this script be older than the Pillars themselves?

Perhaps they belonged to the adversary race he saw depicted in the Ancients' murals. Kain called them the Hylden. But if that was the case, why had his Benefactor gone through the trouble of erasing these walls?

The wheel held his attention until he noticed something looming behind it. This edifice was covered in eyes of stone. As he backed away, he was taken back by the sheer size of this monstrosity. It towered to the ceiling, shaped like an urn, embraced by four stone tentacles. Flanked by two rows of eyes, a single, massive massive eye stood in the center of its face, if that eldrich mass could be called a 'face.' Even this cold statue seemed possessed by unholy hunger.

Two things were now certain. He was not, as he once believed, the first creature to see his Benefactor's true form. Second, whatever race first beheld this Thing chose to depict it with more fear than reverence. Raziel slowly backed away from the shrine and left the temple.

It was not unlike his Benefactor to subtly lead him in a particular direction so that It might teach him a lesson. The message was clear. His Benefactor was older than he could possibly imagine and extorted worship from fear. The collapsed temple suggested that his Benefactor was trying to impress upon him the hopelessness of his situation, but Raziel remained unconvinced. Kain once called himself a god, too. But Kain was not a god and neither was this Thing.

...

More time passed; a year or perhaps many. The spectral lair of his Benefactor stood eternal, unchanging. His Benefactor once told him that the Spectral Realm was _outside time._ He dreaded the meaning of that phase.

The caverns seemed to go on forever. He had started beneath the Great Southern Lake, but with no means of discerning direction he could have wandered as far north as Dark Eden or south toward Meridian and the Great Southern Sea. He was certainly no where near the Pillars. If he was, he would have stumbled into their subterranean chamber by now... unless this cavern was even deeper.

One-thousand years of immortality should have prepared him for this, yet he found that even his resolve numbed beneath the oppression of captivity. He hunted sluagh relentlessly and grew to hate them as much as he cherished their dying screams. Sometimes he would chase them relentlessly, running it to exhaustion and taunting it for his own amusement, like a human child tormenting squirrels. There was precious little else to do here. While he continued to dream of escape, the unending gaze of his Benefactor was beginning to crush him.

He had never seen his Benefactor venture into the world above except once; to capture him. Before his capture he had long thought of the Spectral Realm as his home. Like eagles in the sky and snakes in the earth, Raziel belonged to the Underworld. Quite unlike the Spectral Realm on Nosgoth's surface, within his Benefactor's lair he felt anxious, depressed, and startlingly, physically ill, as if this great Thing poisoned the air with Its breath. Somehow, he managed to overcome his weaknesses.

Emerging from one of the carved tunnels, Raziel found himself looking over an enormous limestone chamber. The stalagmites and stalactites hung like torn flesh. An insubstantial river flowed around his cloven feet and over the ledge. Although he did not have one, Raziel's stomach lurched as he gazed into the chasm.

Slimy tentacles shuffled across the rock behind him. Spinning around, Raziel watched helplessly as his Benefactor smothered the light from the previous chamber, blocking his path. He lingered for a moment in denial.

For some time now his Benefactor had been herding him deeper into the earth. With every tunnel he descended the hope of returning to the surface diminished, a dying light. Turning to survey his new surroundings, he wondered whether It had herded him here for some specific purpose or merely intended to break his spirit by forcing him inexorably deeper into the frozen pits of hell. Perhaps both. He scanned the walls of the limestone cavern. There must be another way.

Several spirits floated through the cavern. They seemed to be flocking around an uneven cluster of stalactites. As he watched, one of them floated up through the ceiling and disappeared. There must be a ledge there. How to reach it?

Raziel took a small step backward into the tunnel. There were no eyes in here. His Benefactor never had any difficulty discerning his motives when he traveled beyond Its sight, but he hoped it would give him a slight edge while he planned his next move. He could use the stalagmites jutting up from the ground to get closer to the ledge he desired. Having selected his first objective, Raziel ran toward the ledge and leapt, grabbing hold of the tips of his ruined wings. At the right moment he released them and dropped, sinking his claws into the stalagmite and climbing toward the tip.

_"Why expend all this effort to contain me?"_ he grunted as he climbed. _"You say that my destiny is inconsequential, yet you hound me while your other minions run wild. Its almost as if you fear me."_

YOU HAVE BEEN DECEIVED, RAZIEL: KAIN SEEKS TO DELAY HIS DESTINY BY DISTRACTING YOU FROM YOUR TRUE PURPOSE WITH PARANOID DELUSIONS AND FALSE PROPHECIES. I AM SHEPHERDING YOU BACK TO THE PROPER PATH.

Using the claws on his feet to keep his purchase, Raziel held onto the tip with one hand and hung, surveying the cavern. There were several sluagh skulking about below the water line, focused on the lost souls congregating around the ledge Raziel sought. His Benefactor clearly expected him to dispose of them.

_"So this is all for Kain?"_ Raziel said dubiously, leaping to the next stalagmite and crawling up the side. Almost there.

IT WAS KAIN WHO DESTROYED YOU. HE WILL NOT SAVE YOU FROM THE SOUL REAVER, HE HAS ONLY SPARED YOU FOR HIS OWN BENEFIT.

This fact had not eluded Raziel. He fully expected Kain to betray him the moment he felt it to his advantage. Without the wraith blade he never would have made it to the Chronoplast in the first place. As the wraith blade was his twin soul from another time line, history dictated that he or it would join with the Reaver at some future juncture. If he managed to alter his destiny by avoiding the Soul Reaver he risked introducing a fatal paradox. Although he still despised Nosgoth, he did not wish to destroy it entirely, if he could avoid it. There had to be another way to create the Soul Reaver without sacrificing himself. He did not trust Kain to help him in that regard. His legs coiled. _"And what benefit is that?"_

POWER.

Raziel's claws sank into the limestone. The spirits scattered like doves. He clambered up and over the ledge in a flash and spun around, backing away. His Benefactor chuckled mockingly. Raziel turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING, LITTLE SOUL?

The path inclined at a soft angle and came to an abrupt end. Standing at the ledge, he searched for another exit and noticed an insubstantial stream of water flowing down from above. The stream was broken, more a drip than constant flow. He inclined his neck. Above him was a vertical tunnel, a massive sink hole. From this angle he could not see how far it went. Certainly not all the way to the surface, but at least it would get him out of this pit, if he could reach it. Raziel backed down the tunnel and bounced on his heels, gathering his courage. He would only have one chance to leap. Raziel hurled himself toward his goal.

He grabbed hold of a protrusion from the wall with his hands. One of his hands slipped from its purchase as his body swung forward and his feet dangled over the immense drop. In the Spectral Realm his body had virtually no effect on the environment and weighed less than a feather. There was no danger of the limestone crumbling under his weight. However, he still needed to pull himself up. He grabbed at the wall, finding it just out of reach.

Far below, a few sluagh turned their attention to him. The eyes of his Benefactor watched serenely from the cave walls, doing nothing.

Raziel tried to pull himself up using one arm. Although he was physically much stronger as a wraith than as a vampire, this required enormous effort. He wished he could grit his teeth (but he had no lower jaw) or curl his lips to vent his frustration (but most of his skin had burned off in the abyss); all he could do was scrunch his brow and wrinkle his nose.

The tips of his claws grazed the stone. With a final burst of strength, Raziel threw his arm in a wide arch and hooked his claws around a stone. Laboriously, he started to pull himself up. When his feet finally touched the rock he scrambled up into the sinkhole and paused briefly to survey his new surroundings.

A faint, white-green glow issued from the mouth of the sinkhole, at least two hundred feet above him. Raziel did not mistake this glow for sunlight; rather, it was the ambient glow of the Spectral Realm. There was another tunnel up there. He started toward it. If he ever expected to escape this place, he needed to focus on moving onward and upward.

Half-way up the sinkhole his hand touched something soft and icy cold. He recoiled sharply, claws scratching desperately at the limestone as he retreated and struggled for new holds. The blue eye blinked Its hourglass pupil at him. With a growing sense of horror, Raziel slowly lifted his head. Dozens, hundreds of eyes wound about with tentacles clustered around the walls of the sinkhole, growing denser and brighter as they neared its mouth. Dense laughter filled the tunnel like smoke.

Raziel threw himself up the limestone wall like a frog fleeing a hungry snake. As he tried to leap again something snagged his ankle. He tumbled, flailing, and slammed against the wall, hanging by his foot. Twisting, he scrambled up the rock and kicked at his shackles. Suddenly a second tentacle shot out, grabbing him by the wrist, and yanked him against the wall like a chain. The back of his head cracked against a sharp stone.

He grasped the coiled tentacle and tried to pry it free with his claws. He clenched his eyes in pain as the other tentacle pulled his leg taunt, stretching it over the chasm. Tearing at the binding, he suddenly froze, paralyzed with terror as something sinister crawled beneath his pelvis. Its slimy skin brushed against the muscle of his inner thigh, wrapped around his spine, and made itself unwelcome in the empty house where his guts used to live. He gasped and let out a shriek as another tentacle wormed between his ribs and grabbed hold of what remained of his organs. While he struggled to escape, he failed to notice yet another tendril sliding over his shoulder. By the time he spotted it, it was too late. It latched onto his other arm and wrenched it back against the wall. He wriggled, desperate to get away, only to be subdued again.

Tentacles slithered up his exposed spine, their toothy suckers biting at his muscle. Tightly they coiled around his wings, pinning him to the wall like a butterfly to a cork-board. Raziel dared not move, for he would truly fall into a pit of utter despair if he lost what little remained of his wings. He watched, helpless as more miniature tentacles emerged from the walls like eels and clamped around his arms, legs, and spine until there was no part of him not held captive. One tendril wrapped around his neck, brushing against the tips of his fangs through his cowl. If he had a throat Its hold would have choked him.

Minutes passed. Nothing happened. Raziel steeled himself against the fear growing large in his chest. He tried again to pull himself free and flinched as the tentacles tightened their holds. One of his Benefactor's tentacles coiled around his upper jaw. It pushed aside his cowl, exposing his charred and broken face, and latched onto his cheek with rows and rows of tiny teeth. It tightened, pulling his head back and forcing him to gaze at the multitude of eyes focused down on him. Raziel wanted to whimper. He was too frightened to make a sound.

YOU HAVE STRAYED TOO FAR FROM MY GOOD GRACES THIS TIME, RAZIEL, said his Benefactor with sanguine coldness. NOW I MUST REMIND YOU TO WHOM YOU BELONG. DO NOT STRUGGLE. AS MY AGENT, YOU ARE BEYOND DEATH.

_"Wait-!"_

_..._

Somewhere in the Spectral Realm, Raziel awoke to familiar surroundings. His last memories were of bones crunching and snapping, muscles ripping, and horrific pain. Getting quickly to his knees, Raziel held out his cloven hands and flexed them. His hands darted to his cowl. He found it in its usual place, wrapped around his neck and shoulders to mask his disfigurement. He never felt so grateful to have it. As he stood he spun around dizzily and felt an immense sigh of relief as his ruined wings rustled against him. He was still a corpse, but he was in one piece, so to speak.

YOU SEE, RAZIEL? EVEN WHEN I DESTROY YOU, YOU ALWAYS RETURN TO ME.

Raziel jumped. An enormous blue eye gazed down upon him from the walls of this chamber. The sight of dozens of enormous tentacles hugging the walls nearly made him faint. As he backed away he lifted his gaze upward and realized why this place seemed so familiar. Somehow he had been transported to the bottom of the Lake of the Dead, the site of his execution and rebirth.

Dying in the Spectral Realm apparently forced his soul's return to this chamber. He felt weak and hungry and overwhelmed by despair, as he had on his first awakening in this place. For some time Raziel had believed that his Benefactor did not deserve the credit he claimed for his resurrection. The evidence now begged to differ. _"How is this possible?"_

I AM THE ENGINE OF LIFE AND DEATH. I HAVE POWER OVER ALL THAT YOU SEE. GO AND REMEMBER WHAT YOU HAVE LEARNED HERE. A new path opened to him. Raziel sensed the cries of lost souls not far away, yet with his Benefactor's words his hunger subsided to a dull burn. Was this truly all there was?

He clenched his fists. _"I refuse to accept this. You cannot keep me imprisoned forever."_

His Benefactor replied, INDEED. YOU HAVE A PURPOSE TO FULFILL. ONCE YOU HAVE PROVEN YOUR OBEDIENCE, I WILL RELEASE YOU. ALTHOUGH IT IS I WHO HOLD YOU CAPTIVE, NEVER FORGET THAT IT WAS KAIN WHO CONDEMNED YOU TO THIS PRISON WHEN HE FORSOOK YOU TO THE ABYSS AND LEFT YOU ABANDONED IN THE SARAFAN STRONGHOLD.

The reminder of his execution tasted even bitterer in this place. Not only had Kain executed him for no crime, he had watched him fight his way through the Sarafan Stronghold to retrieve the Heart of Darkness and offered no assistance, only appearing to save him from the Reaver because doing so benefited _him._ They could have worked together to revive Janos Audron, but Kain chose to do nothing. If Kain stood before him now, he would rip that bastard apart with his bare hands.

This was exactly what his Benefactor wanted.

Raziel shook himself. His eyes blazed hot white. _"I will_ never _do your will."_

NOT MINE, RAZIEL. YOU SHOULD KILL KAIN FOR YOURSELF.

He backed away, scanning his surroundings for an alternative exit. There was only one path open to him, surrounded by tentacles. He did not trust it.

Behind him, something rustled. He flinched and spun around, stumbling backwards away from the large tentacle. As it drew nearer he turned and darted down the tunnel, leaping through the passage with his eyes closed. He skidded into a wall, hurled himself forward and kept going until he reached the bottom of a deep trench. He wedged himself between some rocks and remained there until his bones stopped rattling.


	3. Bad Dreams

_You're gonna send me back to where I came from  
Please don't send me back to where I came from  
Let me go where the white magnolias grow_

_Yeah but you're going to do what you wanna do  
No matter what I ask of you  
And you send your dark messengers to tempt me  
I come from Chino so all your threats are empty_

- The Mountain Goats, _Pigs that Ran Straightaway into the Water, Triumph of  
_

* * *

_"No!"_ The tentacle slammed into his chest, throwing and knocking him against the wall. His body slumped and collapsed at the bottom of the pit. He pushed himself onto his knees and shook himself as the light above blotted out. His Benefactor was placing him in solitary confinement.

Raziel stood and paced around in a circle, his white eyes gleaming in the darkness and belching angry blue flames. There was no way out. He summoned the wraith blade to give himself more light and company. As long as he possessed his twin soul, he was never alone.

This time he must have been close to escape for his Benefactor to imprison him in such a tiny cage. It benefited most when he was allowed to roam the Underworld killing sluagh and devouring lost souls, functions which he could not perform as long as he remained in this hole. It would not have trapped him here unless It feared him. Clearly, escape was not as impossible as his Benefactor wanted him to believe.

_"You won't keep me down here forever,"_ he coldly observed.

Time passed. Raziel gave up on trying to decide how much. He found ways to keep his mind occupied.

Hunger and weakness began to set in. Sitting down against the wall, he looked up at the mouth of the sinkhole sealed shut by a single massive tentacle and chuckled morosely. _"I'm wondering... are you omniscient or simply unoriginal? If you could let me know when I've been down here for forty-eight days, I would appreciate it."_

That was his record; forty-seven days alone at the bottom of a hole. Every couple of days someone would lower down a bucket of blood for him, barely enough to keep him going. Breaking his old record without even being fed would be quite an accomplishment. When he was young he might have been able to go to fifty, if Kain had not stopped him.

Kain had called it 'training.' After he had been so callously hurled into the abyss, he wondered if Kain's 'training' was merely an excuse to be sadistic. The motive mattered not. There was nothing his Benefactor could do that had not already been done to him.

The Spectral Realm melted away before his eyes. Raziel stiffened and hugged his knees to himself in fright as the smooth limestone walls creased in an orderly checkerboard fashion, transforming into bricks and mortar. The wraith blade vanished, leaving him alone. High above his head someone walked across a stone floor, heading towards his pit. There were two sets of footsteps. He recognized them immediately. Raziel craned his head and squinted as a light appeared through the steel bars.

Another feeding time. He put his head solemnly between his knees and closed his eyes. His tangled black hair brushed against his wrists. He controlled his breathing, easing himself back into a steady calm.

Although feeding time was the only break he received from the monotony of the pit he could not allow himself to savor the distraction. He had made that mistake before. If he relied on other people for comfort he made himself vulnerable during the long intervals when no one came to visit him, when he depended on himself for strength and relief. The last time Kain locked him in this pit he had Turel down here with him. He was alone this time. It was harder to stay sane. Strange visions visited him in the lonesome darkness. He taught himself not to fear them but to always recognize unreality when he saw it and never surrender himself to any fantasy, no matter how tempting.

... RAZIEL...

"Raziel. Raziel, get up," Kain called into the pit. A pebble hit him on the head. He remained purposefully still. He knew that Kain was testing him again, trying to discover his limit and smash it.

Something hot landed on his exposed arms. Raziel grit his teeth. When he couldn't stand it anymore he moved to brush the burning ashes off of his skin. His pale white arms were dotted with ash burns from previous showers. He glanced up in time to see Melchiah back away from the pit with a sorrowful look in his face. Raziel tried to meet his eyes, to show him that it was alright and he forgave him, but Melchiah's guilt drove him out of sight. Slowly Raziel stood. Kain stood on the edge of the pit, smiling down at him in triumph. "I knew that would get your attention. You look tired, Raziel."

"I was taking a nap." He had not slept in over a week. There was no need for sleep, even for a vampire as young as himself, only thirty years old, but a few hours of unconsciousness gave him a reprieve from the stress of the pit, which taxed him so greatly that he could no longer force himself to rest. Only with Kain here did he manage to appear composed.

"I think you've been down there long enough. Would you like to come out now?" Kain was testing him again. The first time Kain offered escape Raziel had foolishly leapt at the opportunity. When he was almost to the top of the pit, Kain kicked him in the teeth and knocked him to the bottom again before slamming the gate. It was a lesson he only needed to learn once.

Raziel shook his head. He pointed to the marks on the wall he had made with a sharp stone. There were forty-three. He had started tallying the days during his second week in the pit, after deducing that Kain was feeding him once every three days. That was the only way to keep track of the time down here. There should be forty-seven marks now. He had not added today's yet.

"I'm not playing games this time, Raziel," Kain growled through his smile. "This training is over. I have a new task for you."

"So soon?" Raziel taunted.

Kain coldly replied, "I can make it more difficult for you."

... RAZIEL, MY SOUL REAVER. HARVESTER OF SOULS I CREATED YOU AND TO THIS FUNCTION, MY ANGEL OF DEATH, YOU WILL RETURN...

Raziel faltered, confused. Was his mind playing tricks on him again? At this moment Melchiah stepped into view behind Kain. He gazed down into the pit with pleading eyes. Ordinarily it was Zephon or Turel Kain brought to taunt him. Melchiah was his closest brother, the youngest and gentlest of Kain's sons. Raziel suddenly realized why Kain had brought him here instead of the others. He swallowed hard. "Alright. Stand back, let Melchiah open the gate."

Kain exchanged the key with Melchiah's torch. As he stepped out of sight, Melchiah crouched near the lock and started to open it, sending Raziel reassuring glances as he did so. He threw open the gate. Raziel heard it clang against the ground.

Drawing a deep breath, Raziel leapt up the sides of the pit. He could not climb as well as Zephon. Instead he leapt from wall to wall, using his momentum and the tenuous handholds to propel him upward. But lack of blood made him weak. He was almost out when his head spun dizzily and he lost all coordination.

... THE WHEEL OF FATE MUST TURN; ALL ARE REDEEMED IN THE CLEANSING AGONY OF BIRTH, DEATH AND RE-BIRTH...

His feet slipped from the wall, but before he could fall someone grabbed his hand and pulled him over the edge. As his knees touched the floor of the dungeon he bit back a sob, so happy to finally be out of that hole. Completing fifty days no longer mattered to him. If he showed even a hint of weakness he knew Kain would push Melchiah aside and knock him back into that awful pit.

Reigning in his emotions, Raziel opened his eyes. He blinked in bewilderment. The hand that lifted him out of the pit and dragged him to his feet did not belong to Melchiah. As darkness crept in he caught a glimpse of his maker's face.

... THIS IS THE ENGINE OF LIFE - THE PURIFYING RHYTHM OF THE UNIVERSE - TO WHICH ALL SOULS ARE IRRESISTIBLY DRAWN. YOUR'S IS A NECESSARY AND NOBLE FUNCTION, RAZIEL. KAIN'S SOUL IS WAITING...

The green glow of the wraith blade bathed the pit as the voice of his Benefactor pounded in his head. Raziel covered his ears with his claws, yet Its voice penetrated his mind like an arrow, sermonizing the same point over and over again.

... SOUL REAVER... RAZIEL... THE WHEEL MUST TURN... DEATH... RE-BIRTH... I CREATED YOU... FAILURE... REVENGE... ONE PURPOSE... KILL KAIN... KILL KAIN... _KILL KAIN..._

_"Shut up,"_ Raziel hissed into his cowl. He dared not speak loud enough for It to hear, to give It the satisfaction of having wounded him, yet he found complete silence impossible when he had no jaw to clench shut in defiance. He curled into a ball on the ground and desperately tried to block Its voice out. If only he could go back to the dungeon with Kain and Melchiah.

In spite of his best efforts, hunger and that Parasite's infernal, booming voice finally broke his spirit. Only when he begged for release to Its satisfaction did It finally drag his antagonized corpse from the pit and allow him to feed.

By no means was this a total submission to his Benefactor's will. Since his Benefactor gave him no gratification, he decided to call this period of punishment fifty days. No one would or could contradict him. Sadly, it did nothing to quell his sense of defeat.

...

To keep his sanity, Raziel began counting how many times his Benefactor used certain words in Its speeches. The top three contenders were: Raziel, Kain, and kill. Death, wheel, souls, and fate also ranked high on his mental list. While he found keeping track of these things tedious, when he made the mistake of actually listening to his Benefactor he found himself slowly starting to agree to some of Its ideas, a tenuous state of mind he hoped to avoid at all costs.

Raziel missed the sun. He missed the moon and the stars. He missed feeling the flaps of his ruined wings rustle in the breeze and leaving footprints in the dirt. He missed his brothers and his clan. He even missed Kain.

When he remembered the beauty of Nosgoth during the time of the Sarafan, he could not believe he ever thought about destroying the world. If he never regained his former glory, that would be fine as long as he could smell grass one more time.

Sometimes he thought about submitting to his Benefactor. His Benefactor promised his suffering would end with Kain's death. How simple a thing it would be, to kill Kain. He felt sure he would feel no remorse. Neither would Kain's death give him any satisfaction. He would probably feel nothing at all.

During the times when he felt his weakest, he would seek out a relatively quiet place to summon the wraith blade, close his eyes, and listen to what it had to say. He needed to listen hard and put words to the feelings it sent him, for his twin soul had forgotten the nuances of language eons ago.

The wraith blade spoke of unfathomable rage and suffering. Against its will it had been stolen into a small and dark cell that teemed with hate and lonesomeness and ravenous hunger. Just when it grew accustomed to its prison, something released it into a bright and confusing world for which it felt fear and bitterness and resentment, for though it had dreamed of escape for eons, its long imprisonment had changed it too much to tolerate the massive world. Now it yearned to return to the place where it had been trapped for countless millennia, but each time it did it remembered betrayal and cursed itself for another age, having fallen back into the same trap.

The wraith blade did not remember its name. It did not remember what it was before its habitation in the Soul Reaver. It recognized Raziel dimly, like an animal viewing its own reflection. It had no interest in music, art, poetry, or any of the finer things Raziel tried to explain to it; it did not know the difference between a sonata and an avalanche. Its thoughts arrived in jumbled packages, broken and nonsensical like a grave that had been disturbed, raided, and thrown finally into a dirty river, where the bones mingled with refuse and the remains of other animals. Its entire being was rotten with insanity and corruption.

But the wraith blade remembered Kain. Speaking their master's name had no effect, for the wraith blade did not understand words, but if he concentrated on the memory of their master the wraith blade would suddenly flare and pulse. The wraith blade had a similar reaction to thoughts of their Benefactor. It did not merely feed off of Raziel's rage; it possessed its own.

Yet the wraith blade had no memory of Janos or Ariel, the two beings Raziel treasured most as allies and - when he felt brave enough to admit so - as friends. Although he no longer viewed Ariel with such rosy eyes, he doubted he could have found the strength to go on without her kind voice and sympathetic ear during the time of Kain's crumbling empire. The wraith blade did not seem to remember anything good.

Spending an hour listening to the demented raving of the wraith blade never failed to convince Raziel to press on.

...

I CAN SEE INTO YOUR HEART, RAZIEL. IT IS NOT YOUR WILL, BUT COWARDICE THAT KEEPS YOU HERE.

YOU KNOW WHAT FATE AWAITS YOU WHEN YOU LEAVE THE UNDERWORLD. THAT PHANTOM WEAPON YOU BEAR IS A CONSTANT REMINDER, ISN'T IT? THE SWORD IS WAITING FOR YOU OUT THERE AND YOU TARRY SO AS NOT TO MEET IT.


	4. Broken

_Crowds grow denser by the second_  
_As we near the center of the town_  
_And they dig a trench right in the main square right there_  
_And they pick me up and throw me down_

_And I start laughing like a child_  
_And I mark their faces one by one_  
_Transfiguration's gonna come for me at last_  
_And I will burn hotter than the sun_

- The Mountain Goats, _Heretic Pride_

* * *

Raziel was hyperventilating. He couldn't understand why or - even - _how. _His ribs rose and fell in quick succession without his permission and a faint hiss issued from the hole at the base of his neck. There should not have been any lungs in his chest to push out the air, but perhaps some vestige survived. The whole affair would have been fascinating if it was not so terrifying. He tried to keep himself quiet by crossing his hands tightly over his chest and pressing down. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

This was wrong because he was usually so good at keeping himself under control. The last time he felt so out of his mind was in the ruins of his clan territory, when he had finally been forced to accept the evidence of his eyes and admit that everyone he had ever cared for or loved or depended on was _dead forever _and absolutely never coming back. That was acceptable, was it not? No one could hold up under those circumstances.

There was no excuse for his behavior now. There was absolutely nothing to be upset about. He hardly even felt hunger anymore. His Benefactor had been giving him the silent treatment for some time - a welcome relief - and with an abundance of free time - greater even than he experienced during the height of Kain's empire - he found himself with ample time for training and... and... well...

He kept his mind sharp, too. Made up little songs and poems in his head to help pass the time. Some of them were quite good, he thought. Pity he had no means to write them down. The words kept changing and he would forget them easily. Unfortunately, none of the spirits here seemed to appreciate them. He took a little pleasure in eating his critics.

He needed to get out of here.

Spotting what appeared to be a small crevice in the wall of the cavern, Raziel started toward it at a fast walk, casting anxious glances over his shoulder in case the thousand eyes of his Benefactor decided to finally close. When he reached the crevice he put his hands on the sides and peered into the darkness. He dragged himself through the sliver of rock, his cowl coming loose as he wriggled inside. This crevice was a lot deeper than he expected. He crawled deeper inside, his ribs scraping against the hard ground.

When he reached the other side he found that he had enough space to roll onto his side. So he did. His cowl was coming off. He pulled it down to his chest, but since there wasn't enough room to put it on again he balled it and pressed it to the hole in his throat in a desperate attempt to stop the raspy sound of his breathing. This did no good. Perhaps the noise was coming not from his throat but from the same strange place where his voice manifested. His inability to stop the sound struck him as inexplicably funny and he chuckled bitterly.

That was when he finally snapped.

He hadn't crawled down here intending to find a private place to vomit out emotions. Something compelled him here. Now there was no stopping it. The whole sick, pointless drama of his life struck him full force and carried him away like the whirlpool in the Lake of the Dead. Swept helplessly along the current, curled up in a ball, trembling and laughing and wailing and digging claws into the rock, Raziel hung on for the long haul.

If this was madness...

Well...

Fine then.

Let Raziel be mad.

Throwing up his arms as high as he could, he laughed, _"Just... just let me have it!"  
_

"Pathetic..."

Raziel's chest slowed slightly, his white eyes blazing in the darkness. He rolled onto his back and touched the stone above him. Solid. This didn't make any sense. The worst part was, real or not, he actually felt glad to hear that voice. _"Kain?"_

"I'm disappointed in you. After you fought so hard, you can think of nothing better to do with your freewill than crawl into a crevice and cower."

_"What?"_ Raziel tried to sit up. There wasn't enough room and he only made it to his elbows. He scanned the cramped crevice, seeking the source of Kain's voice with narrowed eyes. _"This is some kind of trick. Where are you?"_

"You should have stayed at the bottom of the abyss with the rest of the weaklings. I don't know why you keep coming back. You're like a cockroach."

Kain's words opened old wounds. His voice lowered to an agitated growl._ "Stop it... whoever you are."_

"It's amazing how easily your alliances shift. With a few honeyed words, I convinced you to spare my life even after you'd slaughtered all of your brothers to get to me. Or was it simply too much for you to kill the man you called father? Did you honestly think I cared about _your_ destiny, _child?"_

Raziel covered his ears, his claws digging into his scalp. His voice choked. _"I said stop!"_

"Your only purpose was to change _my_ destiny. That's why I chose you, a Sarafan dog: so loyal, so predictable, so easily manipulated. Your compulsion to follow orders without question was ingrained in your soul a thousand years before I created you. You were simply a tool. And now you are broken."

_ "I am not broken! I'm not!"_

"Look at yourself! You wretched, disgusting corpse - you're falling apart at every joint. All your courage and pride is gone. You vowed vengeance and failed. You are a worthless, broken vessel for a useless soul."

_"I AM NOT BROKEN! I am whole!"_ Raziel screamed from the hole in his throat. _"I don't care what you think of me, you deceitful bastard - you do not own me - I am my own! I hope you live for eternity - secure in the knowledge that your crimes deserve no less than death - but I will not give it to you! You are not worthy of my vengeance! You are nothing, an insignificant little tick, and I am not your child anymore!"_

Rising to his knees, he gestured out the crevice. Blue fox-fire gushed from his eye sockets._ "Have you seen what's out there!? If you ever dreamed, Kain, you could not dream a thing as monstrous and depraved as the Parasite I serve. That is the benchmark of my hatred - my suffering. And yet here I stand... after all of this, I still endure. Your words are empty. Come out, if you dare. I'll show you true horrors."  
_

Raziel waited, the tension slowly draining from his blue muscles. Disturbed by the sudden silence, he meekly called, _"Kain...?"_

He was gone. Or maybe...

He waited for an indeterminate time, hoping - expecting to hear Kain's voice again. Eventually, he decided that it must have been some sort of temporary insanity... or, more likely, an illusion. But if it was an illusion, would his Benefactor give up so easily?

It didn't matter. Tired of hell, he sighed and slowly lay down on his back and tried hard to forget what he had just experienced.

Now that it was quiet, he realized that this crevice muffled the cries of the dead. It was the closest thing to silence he had experienced in a long time. Away from the prying eyes of his Benefactor, Raziel longed to fall asleep. In the monotony of Kain's empire he had viewed sleep as a luxury at best, a useful escape from aimless hours. As a vampire sleep required merely an effort of will.

He had tried so many times to rest since his execution. When he found the time he would search for a safe location, somewhere high off the ground and out of sight of vampires and vampire hunters, and try to turn himself off for an hour. It never worked. This body did not appear to be capable of unconsciousness, just like Ariel.

Poor Ariel. He thought he understood her suffering. Until now he never truly did. His eyes brightened, suddenly remembering: _"I promised her... and she tried to warn me. Oh, that was so long ago. Ariel..."_

He sighed, shaking his dismembered head. _"I don't know how to free you, Ariel. Killing Kain isn't the way. Even if I could reach him... and I don't want to... no, I don't want to kill him just to settle a score.. even if killing Kain did heal the Pillars in Nosgoth's present, the land is beyond recovery and neither the humans nor the vampires there have any memory of a time when the Pillars stood. They would not know what to do. Killing the elder Kain would have no affect on Nosgoth's past and killing the younger one is impossible I fear. A fatal paradox. I'm so sorry, Ariel. There's nothing I can do. If I started hearing your voice, that would be alright."  
_

But madness did not favor him.

_"So this is where revenge has brought us: you, eternally shackled at the Pillars; Kain, doomed to watch Nosgoth crumble beneath his feet; and I, the unwilling slave of a Parasite... Are we all trapped in prisons of our own making? Or is it really fate, as Moebius said? Did any of us ever have a choice?"  
_

No answers came. With nothing left to say, Raziel pulled his sash over his thin corpse like a blanket and turned his back on the faint green light filtering in from the crevice and the moans of the damned. White eyes unfocused on the darkness before him. The tip of his exposed fang touched the cold ground. He clutched the corner of the cloth in his skeletal hand. His thumb gently brushed over the fabric, back and forth in a soothing, two-step waltz. The cloth was not cloth. Nothing physical remained, yet his mind convinced him that the sash that bore his clan symbol was as real as the day he wore it to the Sanctuary of the Clans and stood with his brothers for the last time.

After his execution he had felt like the shadow of a shadow, transparent and undefinable. Maybe that was why he latched on to his Benefactor's promise of vengeance. Since journeying through the Chronoplast in pursuit of Kain, he had discovered that there was far more to himself than the loyalty, honor, and brotherhood he cherished and lost in the agony of the abyss. But what was he? A villain? A martyr? A heretic? Did destiny define him or did he define destiny?

Raziel closed his eyes, eyelids burned black from the abyss. Although he could not sleep, the simple act of closing his eyes caused the tension to gradually ebb from his body. He felt safe here. There was no sign of his Benefactor. Only the disembodied voice of his master threatened to disturb his peace. However, he seemed to have exorcised it for the time being.

All his life had been defined by alliances. He had been a Sarafan Inquisitor, Kain's First Lieutenant, Patriarch of the Razielim, and his Benefactor's Angel of Death. When all these alliances evaporated, only _he_ remained: steadfast, principled, audacious, inquisitive, wistful, ironic, prideful Raziel. His eyes opened a crack, shedding their dim lights through the darkness, and turned to look at his clan symbol and the torn wings cast upon the ground. He closed them again and let his jawless head rest against the ground, deep in thought.

If he could not escape the Spectral Realm, at least he could frustrate his Benefactor by refusing to feed It. Lately he hardly fed himself at all. He saw no point in satisfying this ache, for the bite of hunger had been dulled down to the hilt by centuries of imprisonment and relief brought him no pleasure, only the dreadful certainty that his will was once again superseded by that of his Benefactor.

But no matter how many times It tried to convince him he was nothing, some doubt remained. Although his Benefactor had other minions, there was something about him in particular that attracted Its attention.

Beyond the prison of the Underworld, Kain waited with the Reaver. If it was Raziel's fate to be trapped inside that sword, then his current situation was no better. He would go mad either way. At least out there his choices might matter.

It was time to change the rules of this game.


End file.
